


put your best face on

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Post-Canon, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, mentions of character death in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith makes a frustrated sound, like Lance is being purposely obtuse. “It’s obvious I’m not your favourite person in the world.”Lance blinks, confused. “Um, no. Of course not.” Keith winces and Lance hurries on. “That honour goes to my grandmother. But you’re definitely in the top ten. Maybe even top five on a good day.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> a tumblr thing

Lance is frozen.

Not literally of course. He can feel the blood and adrenaline coursing through his veins perfectly fine. He can even feel the sheer intensity of the flames emanating from the destroyed control room just a few metres away. He's  _hot_ \- hotter than he's ever felt before.

But he can't  _move_.

He takes in another shuddering breath, fingers hovering just above the trigger as he watches Hunk skid down the corridor, taking out two Galra soldiers as he moves. Lance can't hear him from this distance away, but he sees the way his lips begin to curl upwards into a triumphant grin as the two soldiers drop to the floor.

 _No_ , Lance thinks urgently.  _No. No. No._ This isn't the time for celebrating. Not yet. Not when there's a third, unseen by Hunk, Galra soldier quickly approaching.

Lance knows that this is why he's been placed here, hidden from sight to take down any Galra enemies that might make their way down the corridor and interrupt their plans. The gun in his hand feels heavy.

 _Hunk_ , he wants to scream, eyes wide as the Galra approaches, gun pointedly squarely at Hunk's back.  _Run. Run. Run._

But he can't. He can't do  _anything_. His body won't obey his commands; won't press the trigger to his gun, won't yell out a word of warning to save Hunk's life, won't—

Lance feels tears trickling down his cheeks as Hunk falls to the floor, limp body joining Pidge's and Shiro's nearby. He wants to look away, but he can't.

He's not sure how long he sits there, tucked away in his safe hiding spot, staring at the dead and dying bodies of his friends before  _Keith_ shows up.

It's the same as with the other, like Lance is stuck in some sick, sadistic time loop. Keith takes out the two Galra soldiers easily enough but, just like the others, he doesn't see the third sneaking up behind him.

Lance  _tries_ — He tries  _so hard_ to will his finger to squeeze against the trigger, to do the job he's been put there to do. He  _begs_ his lips to form the words that'll save Keith's life. He  _tries_ —

Keith buckles at the knees like the rest of them, eyes wide in shock as a hand reaches up to gingerly at the quickly growing red mark in the middle of his chest.

 _I'm sorry_ , Lance thinks, silent tears streaming down his face as Keith drops to his knees.  _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm_ —

Before Keith's head hits the floor, he glances up, frantically seeking out the spot where he knows Lance is supposed to be hidden away -  _supposed_ to be protecting them.

" _Lance_?"

Lance shrieks and wakes up in a cold sweat, chest heaving as he struggles to free himself from the mini mountain of blankets he's somehow managed to acquire during the night. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room, but eventually the shapes start to form something recognisable and he lets out a heavy sigh of relief. Hunk and Pidge are both sprawled out on the bed around him, snoring and kicking in their sleep, both very much  _alive_.

He's not entirely sure when the whole 'sleeping in the same room' thing started for them. It feels like more of an unspoken, yet mutual decision rather than anything planned amongst them, but he suddenly feels very grateful for it. It's a little uncomfortable, sure - Pidge has an irritating habit of fidgeting throughout the night, bony legs jutting out in awkward directions that always seem to end planted firmly in Lance's chest, and Lance has yet to meet anyone that can snore louder than Hunk - but it  _helps_. Helps to reassure them that no matter how much they've lost so far, no matter  _who_ they've lost so far, that they're all still alive. That they're still  _together_.

Lance watches them sleep for a moment or two, drinking in the sight of his friends alive and well until he's all but banished every image of their broken and battered bodies from his memory, before he quietly extracts himself from the bed, wrapping one of his many blankets around his shoulders as he goes.

It's annoying how common these nightmares have become since Zarkon's fall. Since Shiro—

Lance's breath hitches in his throat as his thoughts drift towards Shiro, but he ignores it, ignores the familiar pang of grief that washes over him as he makes his way down one of the castle's many sprawling corridors. He's been doing that a lot lately. Pushing aside the less than desirable emotions he can feel welling up inside him in favour of fixing his trademark grin onto his face to avoid prying questions and sympathetic glances from the Balmeran's, Olkari, and all the members of all the other alien races to which the Castle of Lions has become some sort of central hub for since Zarkon's fall.

It’s a rare day to find the Castle of Lions _not_ teeming with aliens rushing in and out, going about their business with identical looks of worry and panic etched onto their faces, not sure what to make of this uneasy period of peace they've found themselves in. Yet to Lance, and the rest of the Paladin’s, the castle seems quieter, _emptier_ , than it ever had before. Because it’s missing something, something important, something that exists in the form of a stern but well-meaning voice echoing throughout the halls, offering words of wisdom and a shoulder to lean on during their most trying days.

Lance sighs and turns a corner, feet working on autopilot to take him down a route he’s become quickly accustomed to over the last few weeks. Seeking out Blue after one of his nightmares has become something of a routine lately and he soon finds himself in the hangar.

“ _Blue_ ,” Lance says softly, grinning slightly as he feels her unmistakably comforting presence begin to wash over him as he approaches. “Where’s my favourite gir—” Lance freezes brows knitting in the middle as he realises he’s not alone in the hangar.

Keith is sat just a few feet away, leaning against Red’s legs as he glares stubbornly up at the Black Lion. For some reason Lance feels like he’s intruding on something personal, so he moves to take a step backwards, but Keith’s head snaps up and catches his gaze.

“Uh,” Lance says eloquently, waving awkwardly in Keith’s direction. “I’ll—”

“What the hell happened to you?” Keith asks, peering at Lance suspiciously.

To his credit, Lance can acknowledge that he probably looks like shit right now. He can still feel his clothes sticking to his skin, slick with sweat, and he knows the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than they usually are, the result of too many sleepless nights spent staring up at the ceiling wondering why a castle filled with hundreds of people feels emptier than it did when it was just the seven of them.

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance laughs easily, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down just a little bit as he shuffles further into the hangar. “Have you ever tried sleeping in the same bed as Hunk _and_ Pidge? You’d look like shit too if you’d been kicked in the face about twenty times tonight.” The lie comes almost worryingly easily to him. He tries not to think about that.

“Oh,” Keith says quietly, gaze dropping for a brief second before he glances back up at Lance. “So what are you doing now? In here?”

Lance hesitates for a second before he shrugs and drops down onto his haunches. “If we’re both gonna be up, we might as well keep each other company. Unless—” He pauses and watches the way Keith’s expression twists into something almost unpleasant, like he’s smelt something gross. “Unless you don’t want—”

“No, no,” Keith says quickly. A long pause stretches out uncomfortably between them before Keith shifts almost imperceptibly, making space for Lance to sit beside him. “I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

Lance frowns as he drops down beside him, draping his blanket over the two of them in one smooth motion. “Why not?”

Keith makes a frustrated sound, like Lance is being purposely obtuse. “It’s obvious I’m not your favourite person in the world.”

Lance blinks, confused. “Um, no. Of course not.” Keith winces and Lance hurries on. “That honour goes to my grandmother. But you’re definitely in the top ten. Maybe even top five on a good day.” A bubble of laughter slips past Lance’s lip at the confused look that flashes across Keith’s face. “Is it that surprising?”

“Well,” Keith bites his lip, head cocking to the side a little. “Yeah? Very?”

“ _How_ , man?” Lance asks incredulously, shifting a little closer towards him under the blanket.

“I dunno,” Keith shrugs before gesturing around the hangar at their lions. “Sometimes I just— I get the feeling sometimes that you’re only tolerating me so we can form Voltron?”

“ _What_?” Lance says loudly, voice echoing around the hangar. “For real? Keith. _Keith_? Do you not pay any attention to anything?”

Keith’s expression sours.

“We _literally_ wouldn’t be able to form Voltron if I didn’t like you,” Lance says, wondering if he should laugh or be very, very offended. “Wait, wait, _wait_.” Lance narrows his eyes and leans in further still, peering suspiciously at Keith. “Do _you_ not like _me_? Is that what this is all about?”

“ _No_ ,” Keith says firmly. “I like you just fine. Like you said, Voltron wouldn’t work if we didn’t like each other.” His gaze turn downcast as he looks up at the Black Lion. “Not that any of that even matters now.”

“I think it matters,” Lance says softly, following Keith’s line of sight to look up at the Black Lion, still and silent, like it’s been since the day Shiro—

“ _Why_?” Keith says, and Lance pretends like he doesn’t hear how his voice breaks, stretching the one syllable out across three. “We can’t form Voltron without hi—”

“Imagine how pissed Shiro’d be when he gets back and we can’t form Voltron because we’ve decided we suddenly hate each other,” Lance snorts, lacing his hands behind his head as he leans properly against Red’s foot. “I can think of worse welcome back presents, but that’d definitely be right up there.”

They both laugh at that, quiet chuckles echoing softly around the expanse of the hangar before they lapse into a strangely comfortable silence.

“Top five, huh?” Keith says, breaking the silence just as Lance begins to feel his eyelids starting to droop.

“Top five on a _good_ day,” Lance corrects him, prodding him gently in the side as his head lolls back against Red and he succumbs to the sleepiness he can feel trying to grab ahold of him.

Keith hums softly. Lance doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel the way Keith shifts beside him, head almost - but not quite - resting on his shoulder. “Is today a good day?”

Later, Lance will blame this on his drowsiness, but for now he’s happy to forget his nightmare, and the intergalactic war he’s somehow found himself apart of, and instead focuses on the warm, weirdly comforting presence by his side. “Today’s a great day, Keith.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be part of a longer fic i wanted to write following the end of s2, but i don’t think i have another longfic in me for voltron lmao, so i just turned one of my favourite scenes i’d planned for it into a small oneshot!


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